


I Know We Can Make It Better Than It Ever Was

by Jennsepticeye



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (author has a hand kink), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Character Growth, Hands, Intimacy, It feels so strange to type such things on a soft fic like this, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Purple Prose, Spooning, Tender Sex, it's very poetic., probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye
Summary: Title from Savlonic's EpochPaz arrives home late in the night, after both suns on this planet have long since dipped below the horizon. Home. It’s a new development, to have somewhere to stop and rest for a while between jobs. Paz has been gone for a couple of weeks on a bounty while Din stayed at home recovering from an injury and being bitter about the whole thing. The weeks were long without him near. It doesn’t matter though, when Paz comes home with only minor scrapes and bruises and enough credits to feed the three of them for a while.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	I Know We Can Make It Better Than It Ever Was

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [DreadWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadWolf/pseuds/DreadWolf). Log in to view. 



> Alright so this thing comes with a bit of a side story.  
> I found It's Home (the poem) not on AO3, but in my google docs, where Dreadwolf had shared it with a discord I was part of at the time.  
> I got super inspired, and then wrote this. But, since I wasn't aware that it was on AO3 I wanted their permission to share it, so I emailed them and it went something like this.  
> me: can I use this?  
> Dread: yeah!  
> me: how do I credit you?  
> Dread: with my AO3.  
> me, to myself: but,,, that doesn't help??  
> then I searched up "It's Home" on AO3 and found it. I was super confused for like three days.  
> So, I'm not going to include the poem here, instead I'm just going to encourage you to head over to It's Home and read it yourself. It's super sweet and poetic and I love it a lot. Show Dreadwolf some love for the poem that inspired this 
> 
> [Mando'a translations in the end notes]

Paz arrives home late in the night, after both suns on this planet have long since dipped below the horizon.  _ Home.  _ It’s a new development, to have somewhere to stop and rest for a while between jobs. Paz has been gone for a couple of weeks on a bounty while Din stayed at home recovering from an injury and being bitter about the whole thing. The weeks were long without him near. It doesn’t matter though, when Paz comes home with only minor scrapes and bruises and enough credits to feed the three of them for a while. 

Paz stands patiently while Din takes off his armor piece by piece and checks him for injuries, but after he’s done they both know they won’t part for a long while.

Paz sits on the edge of their bed and Din stands in the space between his thighs. There are calloused hands on his hips, and Din’s own cradle his beloved’s face.

“Can I?” Paz asks, barely louder than a whisper. His fingers toy with the end of Din’s tunic, awaiting permission.  _ Can I take this off? Can I kiss you? Can I take this further? Can I? Can I? Can I?  _ There’s a million questions crammed into those two little words. Din says yes to all of them.

The shirt gets pulled off and tossed to some forgotten corner. Paz leans forward and presses his lips right against Din’s sternum, soothing the ache of a now healed injury.

“ _ Mesh’la _ .” He murmurs, a rumbling croon rising from deep within his chest and it makes Din shiver, heat building low in his gut. Paz is looking up at him through his lashes and the absolutely besotted look on his face makes Din’s breath hitch.

“Paz, please.” He begs, though he doesn’t quite know what for.

“Of course,  _ cyar’ika.  _ Anything for you.”

Paz pulls him onto the bed, voices low and limbs shuffling until Din is laid out on the mattress beneath him. Wiry thighs bracket much larger hips. Paz is a mass of heat enveloping him, and he can’t help the gasps that fall from his mouth as Paz’s lips continue their journey. Soft kisses travel from his navel up his chest, to his collarbones to his neck and his jaw. Finally, those warm lips press against Din’s own.

_ I love you. I missed you.  _ He seems to say.

Din catches him by the back of the neck, winds his fingers in dark curls and doesn’t let him leave. He needs Paz like a drowning man needs air, and Paz seems intent to give him what he wants. 

When they were younger, angrier, things were different. Before, their relationship was marked with stinging words and harsher blows. Any meaningful time between them tainted with growled insults and rough hands. This is new, better even. It’s simpler now, to love each other so completely. Now Paz takes his time driving Din mad, taking him apart and putting him back together again.

“Incredible. The things you do to me Din’ika.” He says against Din’s mouth. Warm hands create trails of fire on touch-starved skin. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.

“ _ Gedet’ye,  _ Paz. I need—” The plea is cut off by a startled moan as Paz puts his teeth to use at that one spot below Din’s ear. His mouth is  _ hot, hot, hot.  _

“What do you need, love? Use your words.” Paz says, a teasing look in his eyes.

“You.” Din replies, refusing to take the bait when there are much more important matters at hand. “You, Paz. I need you—”

“And you can have me.” He murmurs, soft and sweet, fingers catching the edge of Din’s pants. In a couple moments, they’re gone and Din is laid bare on the sheets. Years ago this might have made him feel vulnerable and uneasy, now it’s different. Paz is someone he trusts with all his heart, and it’s hard to feel nervous when he’s being looked at with such adoration.

Paz takes advantage of the newly uncovered skin, hands wandering down the outside of his thighs, hitching his knees higher, leaving kisses wherever he can reach. Red hot the bubbling heat in his belly sparks into a roaring blaze. 

“ _ Cyare,  _ take off your pants.”

“Patience, love. We have all night.” He says, but does as he’s told anyway, standing from the bed to pull them off and grabbing the lubricant from the bedside drawer before returning. Din will never get sick of this view, Paz completely bare only for him. His  _ riduur.  _

Paz takes his time, letting the lube warm on his hand before that slick hand is on him. He tugs once, twice, thrice, promising relief but bringing none as that warm heat dips farther down. Gently,  _ gently  _ Paz works him open with one finger, then a second, swallowing the sounds that fall from Din’s mouth with his own. 

“Turn on your side for me,  _ cyar’ika.”  _ He requests gently, fingers withdrawing and leaving Din mournfully empty.

He rolls over, and he can feel the mattress shift as Paz settles behind him, a line of white hot heat from his shoulders to his ankles. Their legs are twined together and Din feels small in the best way, dwarfed by the huge body behind him.

Slowly, gently, Paz pushes forward, filling Din perfectly and bottoming out with a sigh. It’s a stretch, no doubt, but it doesn’t hurt . It never hurts. His hands flounder, searching for something to hold onto but there’s nothing but the empty expanse of sheets in front of him. There’s an arm under his head, another across his chest, so he grips onto them and let’s Paz’s fingers wind between his.

Paz hasn’t moved yet but Din’s breath comes in ragged, overwhelmed pants all the same. Soft, warm lips dance along the back of his shoulders, more fuel for the raging forest fire that’s built itself low in his gut.

“Relax, Din. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He whispers, and then he starts to move.

“Paz, fuck—” Groans and gasps are punched out with every shallow thrust, pulled from his throat to harmonize with the ones breathed next to his ear.

“You feel so good,  _ cyar’ika.”  _ Paz groans. “Thought about you— about this every night I was away. You in my arms— just like this.”

Din cranes his head back to cover Paz’s mouth with his own. It’s not a kiss so much as breathing the same air. The shallow thrusts are hardly enough to build anything but Din doesn’t care. Right now everything feels good and warm and safe; he could stay like this for hours, tangled in Paz’s arms.

“Paz.  _ Paz _ —” He gasps the man’s name like a prayer. There’s no sound in the room except for the wet slap of their hips meeting and stolen moans. As far as Din is concerned, nothing exists outside this bedroom for at least the next hour.

Paz lets go of one of Din’s hands to trail it down his chest to his stomach and hip before finally curling it into a loose fist around his hard cock. Din keens, torn between the two sensations. Every one of his nerve endings has been lit on fire by the arousal in his belly. Everything is building, building,  _ building  _ and there’s not a thing he can do to stop it. His whole body shakes with pleasure.

“Fuck— Don’t stop—” Din gasps, his entire being pulled taut like a wire, ready to snap.

Din is just inches from the edge. So is Paz, if the uneven cadence of his thrusts is any indication. Din can’t help but buck his hips, chasing his release. Every one of his senses is nothing but Paz, Paz,  _ Paz.  _

Din’s climax washes over him like the tide, leaving him boneless in Paz’s arms as the larger man follows him over the edge. Hot panting breaths fan over the nape of Din’s neck as they bask in the afterglow. 

After a moment Din turns over, sprawling himself over a broad muscled chest. He can hear Paz’s heart beating steady beneath his ear. The man himself looks the epitome of relaxed, eyes half closed and lips pulled into a soft smile. One of his large hands unfurls across Din’s back, flitting over the knobs of his spine.

_ “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” _ He says, with his words and his gaze.

_ “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum balyc.”  _ Din replies, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He was wrong, before, when he thought of home as this house. Wrapped in Paz’s comforting heat he realizes home is not the house or even the Razor Crest. Paz is his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed and remember to show "it's home" some love!
> 
> Mando'a Translations  
> Mesh'la = Beautiful  
> Cyare/Cyar'ika = loved one, darling etc.  
> Gedet'ye = please  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you  
> balyc = too, also
> 
> [Here's my Twitter!](https://twitter.com/jennsepticeye)   
>  [Here's my Instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/jennsepticeye/)   
>  [Here's my Tumblr!](https://keensepticeye.tumblr.com/)


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